A Dark Tale
by RedPenn
Summary: Dark is a creature driven insane by an ancient curse, and a blissfully unaware Ordon Village just welcomed him in. Now it's up to Ilia to teach a monster how to be a hero.
1. A Beginning

**Chapter One**

**A Beginning**

The rain came down in sheets on the darkened, water-glistening cobblestone street. The sky above, glimpsed between the black silhouettes of tall houses that loomed overhead, was a sinister yellowish color in the nighttime, the low-hanging storm clouds lit from below with a sulphurus glow from the streetlamps; guttering candles burning low behind panes of rain-streaked glass.

Dark ran through the streets.

Hyrule Castle Town was always near deserted after nightfall, and the rain had driven any would-be stragglers indoors. The streets were empty save for the roaring drum of the rain and the slap of Dark's boots as they pounded across the slick wet cobbles. _She's here somewhere,_ he thought desperately. _I only turned my back for a second. She can't have gone far, not in the rain like this._

It seemed, he thought ruefully, as if he had been made for nights such as these: black and wet and dangerous nights. In the gloom, his shadowy body seemed to melt into the darkness. He was invisible. The feeble lights from the streetlamps slid over him without effect, he was a being whose very presence swallowed light, a living silhouette. Glistening rain streamed off his shadowy tunic and dripped from his black hair; lone runnels of silver in the blackness that was Dark.

_Stop thinking like that!_ He mentally scolded himself, giving his head a shake and sending a few stray droplets flying to join their fellows pouring from the sky. _That's not you anymore, that was someone else. Now you're Derek of Ordon. And you have a girl to rescue._

His feet pounded along the empty streets, his eyes, redder than blood, casting around him in the darkness. If she had been mugged, or was lying unconscious in an alley somewhere, or dead…

Those piercing eyes caught a slight movement and he skidded to a halt in the midst of a puddle, spraying himself with water and mud. An old beggar sat huddled in the overhang of a doorway, his threadbare cloak wrapped tightly around himself for warmth, peering out into the rain. "Hey!" Dark shouted, and the man's head whipped round to face him. "Hey, have you seen a girl around here? She…" But with a cry of fright the beggar leapt up and scrambled away into the night, until Dark lost his footfalls in the roar of the rain.

The shadow scowled after him, red eyes glittering, but then even that expression slid dejectedly off his face, to be replaced by a kind of bleak depression. _She wouldn't leave the city without me. She needs my protection to cross Hyrule field. But,_ he considered, a spark of hope rising, as feeble as the lamp-light, _she wouldn't stay out in this rain, either._ An inn, that's were he would find her. And the only inn he could remember was the one the two of them had visited earlier that day: a place called Telma's Bar. _She'll go there. She's friends with that Telma woman. _And with an abrupt turn, he started back the way he had come, searching for the bar that would lead him to Ilia of Ordon.

{oOo}

Telma looked up curiously as the wooden door swung open, wondering who would be out in the weather at this time of night, and, more importantly, if they were interesting in buying anything expensive off the menu. She gave a small gasp at the figure that entered: tall and sinister and dressed all in black, a wild glint in his blood red eyes, soaking wet and smeared with so much mud that he looked like some sort of monster. The woman reached under the bar for the heavy wooden club she kept hidden for just such an occasion. It was long and thick as her arm, and a cruel metal spike had been nailed through it. There weren't a lot of troublemakers at Telma's Bar. Not anymore, at least.

"I know you're going for that club, Miss Telma," the stranger said, giving his head a slightly dog-like shake to dislodge some of the water in his dark hair and wiping mud from his face absent-mindedly, although all this really accomplished was to spread the mud around.

Recognition dawning, Telma abandoned her search for the club and gaped at him. "Derek?"

"Yes, Miss Telma," Dark said meekly, his shadowed face going red as he realized he was dripping mud all over her spotlessly clean floorboards.

"Derek, come in, and shut the door for Goddesses' sake!" Telma exclaimed as she hurried around to the front of the counter and pulled up a stool for him. "Are you alright? I thought you and Ilia were going home before nightfall."

Dark's head snapped up, his blush vanishing. "You mean she's not here?"

"Of course not. She's not with you, then?"

"No!" said Dark, a slight note of panic in his voice. "We lost each other in the crowd, and I can't stop thinking about those footpads who attacked us a few months ago…"

Telma nodded gravely. "Sit down, boy; I'm sure she's alright. I've got some friends in the city who know Ilia, and I'll bet you she's with one of them. I'll send a message to them, and if no one's seen her we can all go out and form a little search party, alright?"

Dark nodded glumly and slumped down onto the barstool she was offering. He folded his arms across the wood of the bar and rested his forehead against them, closing his eyes and trying to calm down. Somewhere nearby, he could hear the scratching of a pen as Telma wrote the promised letter, the soft rustle of wings as she fixed it carefully to a carrier pigeon and loosed it into the night. The rain pattered softly outside…

"Honey, you awake?"

Dark gave a start and jerked his head up as Telma spoke, ashamed at having almost dozed off when Ilia was quite possibly in danger. That coffee-colored face smiled encouragingly at him from across the bar. "Well, no wonder, since it's near midnight," she said. "And you look quite the mess, by the way. Care to see?"

The shadow nodded, and she drew a slightly cracked mirror from behind the bar, propping it up so he could examine his reflection. He grimaced at the wild-eyed mud-thing that looked back out at him. _No wonder people ran away._

"My friends should be here in a few minutes," Telma stated conversationally, blessedly handing him a towel, and Dark found himself recalling the first time he had met her. She had seemed taller then, and he remembered being in awe of her _bigness_. Not that she was by any means fat, although Telma did have one of those figures one might call pleasantly plump, her weight settling attractively into the curves of her body. No, it was that she was commanding. Telma could sit quietly in a corner and still fill the room with her presence, and she had one of those voices that boomed off the walls even when she was whispering; a voice which expected to be obeyed.

Telma took the mirror away, still smiling. "So then, Derek, tell me. You and Ilia. You're her brother, right?" He nodded, and Telma gave him a funny look. "You know you two look nothing alike."

Dark sighed, and muttered, "It's a long story."

"We've got time."

"I don't know where to start," he protested, but Telma shushed him with one of those optimistic smiles.

"Begin at the beginning."

Considering, Dark closed his eyes and thought backwards. Back then there had been Ilia, but there was always Ilia. What came before her? There had been Link, he remembered. And the beautiful room full of water…

"I suppose it began," he murmured, eyes still closed, "In the dungeons of Hyrule Castle, after Ganondorf died…"


	2. Thirteen Beasts

**Chapter Two**

**Thirteen Beasts**

The sound of hammering echoed through Castle Town as construction crews worked dutifully to rebuild what had been damaged during Ganondorf's reign. The entire south side of Hyrule Castle had been blown to bits in a raging blast of shadow-magic, and chunks of masonry raining from the sky had smashed their way through roofs and walls in the surrounding town. Bits of stone and mortar lay in the streets, sometimes raked into piles off to one side or the other so that people could wind their way through. The inhabitants had to go on living, even if their town was all but destroyed. Vendors who usually sat behind the counters of their shops now stood on the cobblestones with trays of goods hung around their necks. The rather shaken royal soldiers stood at attention at what was left of the castle gate, while others patrolled the streets in small groups, helping out with the rebuilding where they could. The injured were carried in slings to a doctor in East Castle Town. Everyone helped out, and the people lived on.

Link barely took note of this as his horse, Epona, made her way through the thin and battered crowds. He slumped against her saddle, overcome with exhaustion from riding hard all the way from the Great Desert. It wouldn't have been so bad, except that he was still weak from his battle with Ganondorf, and a long while without rest was slowly turning his muscles to water. A little sleep would be wonderful…

"Link, are you listening to me?" Princess Zelda rode up behind him on a sleek white mare. A few of the townspeople caught sight of her and gave a ragged cheer. Zelda had been near to useless in defending the kingdom against Ganondorf, but she was still their princess and a certain sense of patriotic pride prompted them to accept her. The princess seemed unaffected by the recent tragedy: her golden hair hung neatly down her back, and there was hardly a crease in her dress from the long ride. She sat up straight and looked at Link with those piercing violet eyes. Groggily, he tried to remember what she had just been saying.

"Um… Right, the reconstruction. It looks like everything's going alright."

"That's not what I asked you," Zelda replied coldly. "I asked if you would stay and help."

Oh, how he wanted to go back to Ordon village. To finally give up being the unwilling adventurer and get back to his normal life. Not that it hadn't been fun, in a terrifying, flirting-with-death kind of way, but he needed time to heal. "I don't know, I mean, they need me in Ordon. It'll be shearing season soon, and it's only me and Fado who can corral the goats right…" He knew he was babbling, and trailed off at the harsh look Zelda was giving him. She was, he realized, a complete stranger to him, despite the fact that he had recently saved her life, and if he was completely honest with himself then he had to admit she scared him.

"I don't care about goats. I need someone I can trust to help me with this, and since there's no one available, you'll have to do."

"Can't you just hire some masons? I'm sure they know more about building castles then I do."

Zelda didn't roll her eyes, but it was a narrow escape. "I'm not talking about rebuilding the castle, Hero, I'm telling you I need your help with something else. Something to do with Ganondorf." They had reached the smashed-in archway that marked where the gates of Hyrule Castle had been, and the princess nodded to the guards. They stepped back, saluting respectfuly as the two riders made their way through and into the ruins of the castle.

"Ganondorf?" Link asked, suddenly wary. "But he's dead. I killed him myself." _And I still hurt all over from it. I could swear he broke some of my ribs._

"Just come with me," she snapped, dismounting. Link did the same, and followed her through the ruins. Everywhere, architects and masons clamored over the remains, planning, shouting at one another, rebuilding. But one area was quiet and empty. A section of stairway sank down beneath the piles of rubble, leading to a pit of flickering, torch-lit semi-darkness. The stairway's entrance had been roped off by a length of chain, but Zelda ducked underneath and beckoned him to follow.

They descended, and the light from above dwindled and vanished as the stairway spiraled down. Zelda's voice echoed against the stone walls. "This was once the dungeon of Hyrule Castle. During my rule it was seldom used, but when Ganondorf took over he filled it with a large number of evil artifacts: torture devices, books of spellcraft, creatures he had created using his dark magic…" The stairway opened into a dim corridor, lined with tiny, cramped cells. There were stains across the floor which, in the dim light, it was possible to imagine weren't blood, but only just. Link repressed a shiver. He had been imprisoned in here once by Zant, one of Ganondorf's evil supporters, and the experience hadn't been pleasant. Walking ahead of him, Zelda seemed not to notice his discomfort.

"Some of these artifacts," she continued, "Were launched across Castle Town in the explosion. My soldiers are locating them all as we speak. Yet most remain here, deep in the dungeons." She swept an arm to indicate the cells around them.

Link was, in spite of himself, intrigued. "So what do you need my help with, your highness?" he asked, trying to sound respectful.

"Oh, so now you want to help?" Zelda smirked at him over her shoulder. "Well, I did mention monsters, did I not?"

_Creatures he had created using his dark magic…_ "You did." Link answered. He was beginning to realize the purpose of his visit. "Creatures of dark magic, too powerful for your soldiers to handle. You want me to kill them?"

"Yes." For the first time since their return from the Great Desert, Zelda looked apologetic. "I'm sorry I've been short with you, Link. I'm tired, and if you haven't noticed, an evil megalomaniac just blew up my castle." She shook her head. "I know you need time to rest, but that's time we just don't have. It won't be long before one of those things he has trapped in here realizes Ganondorf isn't in charge anymore and breaks out. I don't want anyone getting hurt."

Link shrugged. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry I've been unhelpful. I'm ready to fight now, if that's what you want." The hero unsheathed his sword. It was a simple metal blade, forged in Ordon, since his legendary Master Sword had been returned to its ancient plinth after the battle with Ganondorf, but it would do. He wasn't ready to fight; his hand was shaking on the hilt from weariness, but even in this state he could take down a monster or two. It was when he got to the third one that there'd be a problem.

The first beast was something slimy and covered in tentacles. It lay in the center of one of the deeper cells, blocked from the world not by iron bars but a very solid stone wall. Half-dead as it was, the thing lay wheezing squelchily until Link took mercy on it and stabbed it through the heart. When he took his sword out, it oozed. The second was indistinguishable behind its curtain of leaping blue fire. It flapped frantically around the room like an enormous keese, nearly setting him on fire once or twice before he managed to leap into the air and drive his sword through a wing. It disintegrated in a cloud of choking ash.

The third was a huge cat with too many heads, the fourth a moss-covered entity that clung to the ceiling, the fifth… But Link was losing track. All he knew was that Zelda would lead him to a room, he would stumble exhaustedly inside, and there would be some new beast attacking him with claws or fangs or poisonous spit, until it all sort of blended together into one super-beast, which wouldn't die no matter how many times he cut it down with his sword. Finally, after killing what seemed like the thousandth monster, Link lurched into the corridor covered in black creature-blood, leaned against the cold stone wall, and murmured, "I can't… do this… anymore…"

Zelda stood across from him and eyed him critically. "You're a mess," she stated.

Deigning not to answer, the hero sought to catch his breath. After a moment he muttered, "How many have I killed?"

"Twelve."

"How many were there altogether?"

"Thirteen."

"_Shoot._"

She smiled in what was obviously meant to be a reassuring way. It didn't make him feel any better. "Rest now, Hero, the last one can wait. Its noon up above and there's food being served to the masons. Normally we would honor your bravery with a banquet, but as the entire royal banquet hall is now lying in tiny pieces across the streets of Castle Town, I think you'll forgive us if we make do."

The thought of food, no matter where it came from, was wonderfully appealing to Link, who hadn't realized until a moment ago just how hungry he was. "Yes, it's not a problem at all. Food would be excellent!"

"And perhaps we'll find you a bath while we're at it," Zelda added, eyeing his bloodstained clothes.

{oOo}

No bath had been found, but the meal was beef stew, which was good enough. Link chewed slowly, knowing that as tired and weak as he was he could make himself sick by eating too fast. Zelda had disappeared somewhere, which was fine by him, and he sat amidst the ruins, alone for the most part as the droves of workers hurried by. A few glanced at the blood on his tunic, but mainly he remained unnoticed and undisturbed.

Right up until the point where Ilia of Ordon shot towards him through the crowd and careened into his chest.

Link found himself suddenly on the ground, with a sobbing woman hugging him tightly. "Ilia?" Ilia was from Link's village, a petite girl with short blonde hair and wide eyes.

"Link!" she gasped. "Link, I've been so worried! I heard you killed Ganondorf! Is it true, are you really the great hero everyone's been talking about?"

"Yes?" Link answered, still in shock at seeing her there. "What are you…?"

"I'm here to see you!" the girl responded. "I mean…" She blushed. "I'm here to see how you're treating Epona. You know. If you're taking good care of her." Ilia climbed off of him, suddenly self conscious, and Link sat up.

"But how did you get here?" he said. "The last I saw you, you were headed back to Ordon. You didn't come all this way by yourself, did you?"

"Colin's father Rusl brought me. He was coming to see Telma anyhow, and I asked if I could go with him… Link, is this blood all over you? What have you been doing?"

"Killing monsters in the castle dungeons." Ilia gave a small gasp of awed terror, and Link couldn't help but smile at having impressed her. He liked Ilia. She wasn't distant and aloof like princess Zelda; she was sweet, and down-to-earth, and she could shear a goat in less than thirty seconds, which in Ordon's shepherd community was an attractive trait in a woman. "I'm going to kill another one after I eat. Do you want some stew?"

Ilia put her hands on her hips. "Don't just change the subject like that, Link! Look at you, you're shaking! I don't think you should be pushing yourself like this."

Link sighed. Ilia obviously had no idea how he had spent the past few months: traveling across Hyrule and pushing himself to his limits as he battled every conceivable foe Ganondorf and Zant could throw at him. "It's just a favor for the princess. Everything's fine."

The shepherd girl's wide eyes got wider. "Princess Zelda is asking you _favors_!"

"Yes," said Link smugly, hoping Ilia was thoroughly awestruck by how he had gone up in the world. "She said herself that I was someone she could trust." Well, those hadn't been Zelda's exact words, but close enough.

"Oh, come on, Link. Now you're just making things up. You haven't really met the princess, have you?"

"Ask her yourself," he answered, licking the dregs of his stew from the bowl. "She's walking over here right now."

Ilia nearly squeaked with surprise and whipped around to face the princess. Zelda looked as stately as ever, climbing through the rubble and followed by a group of arguing and worry-faced clerks. She remained outwardly serene as they pestered her, occasionally giving short answers. Looking up at Link and Ilia as she approached, she waved the clerks away. "Are you finished eating?"

Link set his bowl aside. "Yes."

She nodded sharply. "Well then, if you'll follow me back to the dungeons." It wasn't a request, but an order, and so the hero struggled to his feet and set off after her. He could hear Ilia's feet crunching against the gravel behind him.

"You can't come," he said without turning.

"Why not?" Ilia protested. "It can't be too dangerous if princess Zelda's going. I want to watch you fight the monster. And anyway…" He could practically hear her blushing again. "I'd like to talk to the princess. I've never met a princess before." She fell into step beside him and lowered her voice to a whisper, gazing in wonder at Zelda's back as the princess walked a few feet ahead. "You _really_ know her? Is she… Is she the way everyone says she is?"

"I don't know. How do they say she is?"

The shepherdess giggled nervously. "You know. That she's a goddess and wherever she walks flowers spring from the ground." She glanced at Zelda's feet, which were conspicuously flower-free. "I guess that's not true, but can she really work magic?"

"Of course she can," Link whispered proudly. "I've seen her do it."

"Can she…"

"_She_," Zelda cut in from up ahead, "Can hear every word the two of you are saying."

Ilia blanched. "What! Oh, I'm so sorry your highness. I didn't mean to…"

"We're here," Zelda said, ignoring Ilia's apology as if the whole conversation had never taken place. The steps to the dungeon sank before them into the earth, and Link could feel Ilia shiver as she stood next to him.

"It's very dark," she murmured.

"Then I suppose it's a good thing you're not going down there with us," Link responded.

"You can't stop me from coming. If you don't let me go down there with you, then I'll just follow behind you." Unable to come up with a valid argument against this, Link just shrugged. It was true that there was no real danger down in those dark cells. As long as Ilia stayed with Zelda outside in the corridor, no harm could befall her.

"Fine. But you can't watch me fight the monster. You'll have to wait outside."

This decided, the trio moved downward into the underground semi-darkness. Once again the sunlight vanished above, and once again the eerie echoing of their footsteps and the far-off drip of water became the only sounds. After a while, Zelda spoke.

"There's something I should tell you about this last creature. When my soldiers first discovered that Ganondorf's creations were locked in these cells, they began systematically killing them. There were a few that were too powerful to be slain; those you have just spent the day ridding us of. In some cases the men fighting them died, or else barely escaped with their lives." Ilia whimpered softly and clung to Link's arm. "But the monster you are about to face was different from the others. I have been told that the form it takes is small, weak, and unthreatening, and so the soldiers believed it would be easy to kill. However, when they stepped into its cell…" The princess trailed off vaguely. "Just know that this beast is more powerful than the rest. Don't be fooled by its appearance."

Down, down, deeper into the darkness. Down more narrow, winding flights of stairs, past stone doorways where Link had killed Ganondorf's beasts, down into the black abyss in the bowls of Hyrule Castle. Zelda paused only once to lift a torch from its bracket, and then on again, down again. The torches lining the hallways grew less and less frequent and finally disappeared altogether, so that the princess's fluttering light was the only source of illumination. And still they traveled down.

Link was beginning to think that they would wander in this darkness forever, but at last the group reached a small iron door. "Here," was all that Zelda said.

The door was thick, windowless, and had once been held shut with heavy iron chains, but these lay now across the floor, forgotten. And there were words there, scrawled in red across the rusted metal as if written by some grotesque creature unused to the Hylian language…

{oOo}

Dark paused in his storytelling. "Look, do you really want to hear this part? I could skip ahead." He was uncomfortably aware of how creepy and sinister his tale had become, and was wondering if this wasn't the best subject matter to be discussing with a decent woman like Telma. The barkeeper, however, was leaning over her counter in rapt attention. There was a satisfied grin plastered across her face.

"No, go on! It's been a while since I've heard a story this good." She laughed at the look of surprise on his face. "Honestly, Derek, do you think I've never heard a scary yarn before? We get all kinds in the bar here, and everyone has something to say." Telma waved at him impatiently to continue, and Dark did so, still uncertain about whether or not he should be describing the castle dungeons in such gruesome detail.

{oOo}

The torchlight flickered across the rusty iron, and Link squinted, trying to read what was written upon it.

"You don't want to read that," Zelda murmured, resting a hand on the door.

"What is it?" he asked, and she responded,

"A sealing curse. It's one of Ganondorf's spells, and a powerful one at that. As long as it is in place any number of people can enter this room, but none can leave again until the beast inside is dead."

So if he found himself in over his head, he would be unable to leave. Link unsheathed his sword and gripped it firmly, willing his hands to remain steady. There was nothing to worry about; the other monsters had died easily enough, and if he could kill Ganondorf he could kill anything. Nothing to worry about, and yet something in the back of his mind, some instinct stretching through generations of shepherds who had learned to sense when a wolf was wandering through the flock, was telling him to run.

"Why," he asked suspiciously, "Do you need me to kill this thing if it can't leave the room? Surely it's not a danger to anyone?"

Zelda's fingers traced the words of the seal thoughtfully before she answered. "Because with Ganondorf dead, no one is sure how much longer the sealing curse will hold. A few days at most, my advisors tell me. If it isn't killed now it will escape, and many people will die before my soldiers hunt it down again." She gazed at him levelly. "Ganondorf created this beast to kill _you_, Link; of that I am sure. None other of his enemies were a greater threat to his rule, and none powerful enough to force him to such drastic measures. Since in a way, this creature's existence is your doing, I will hold you responsible for any lives it takes."

Link took one look at her grave face and determined that she was completely serious. "I understand." The princess pushed the door open and its corroded hinges squealed. Beyond the darkness was absolute, broken only by the tiny glow of torchlight filtering through the open door. No way to tell how big the room was, or what kind of monster lay inside. Stepping forward, the hero paused on the threshold and looked back at the two women. His eyes met Ilia's. "If I haven't returned in twenty minutes, then I'm not coming back."

{oOo}

Voices. It could hear voices. The creature sat in silence against… It was a stone wall, but in the creature's eyes it appeared as a gnarled tree, gray bark shimmering with the reflection of the rippling water below it. The water was everywhere, sweeping from horizon to horizon in a vast, mirror-still lake, hanging as a glowing silver mist in the air. It was bright and beautiful, and the creature watched Its own reflection waver on the surface.

It could remember, in a shrouded corner of Its hallucinating mind, that It had once been locked away in a dark room; left alone in the blackness of a cold stone cell as the walls slowly closed in around until It could barely breathe. And It could remember beating Its fists against the walls until they bled, and screaming until Its voice gave way, all the while knowing that Its mind was slowly slipping away into the shadows. It could remember when something inside of It finally snapped, and It had let the delusions come…

But none of that was real. Here and now, in this beautiful room full of water, _this _was real. There had never been any darkness. There had never been any mind to lose.

The voices had died away, and in the silence they left, footsteps echoed across the endless water. The creature drew Its knees up to Its chest and buried Its head in Its arms. Someone was coming, coming into the water room, to the place where no one ever came. It hated when people came; they brought with them the red mist, and the darkness…

It could hear those horrible footfalls on the water, walking across it as if it were solid stone. _No! Not stone. Water. Beautiful sparkling water. Pretty little water with the pretty little fishys that swim underneath… Water… Water… _But the sound wouldn't go away, the awful sound of solid rock. Its head throbbed. It could feel the red mist descending over Its eyes, and all of that which passed for thought in Its simple, broken mind draining away into the dark…

It had to stop the footsteps.

It had to _kill_ them…

{oOo}

The darkness was absolute. Link stepped carefully across the floor, expecting at any moment to stumble over the discarded bones of the beast's victims. He wished he had thought to bring his lantern, or else borrowed Zelda's torch, but it was too late now; he was trapped in this eternal night until he killed whatever it was that dwelt behind this curtain of darkness.

He knew immediately that this room was larger than the other cells. When he reached where he thought the back wall should have been there was only empty air, and so he had continued on, while Zelda's torch in the doorway disappeared into the darkness behind him. No light, no hope of escape…

But there _was_ light. A dim blue glow shimmered in the middle distance, and Link set toward it, reasoning that where there was light, there was life, and that was as good a place as any to search for the beast. It was strange, but the nearer he got, the more the impression came that he was experiencing some kind of double vision. In his mind he registered light, but his eyes seemed to be protesting that there was nothing but empty blackness. Link wondered vaguely if he was seeing things due to exhaustion.

The blue half-light flickered like the reflected dance of water against a rough wall of stone; the back of the cell at last. Link stood just outside the glow and squinted while his eyes adjusted to the sudden brilliance. Except in some way, his eyes _didn't_ adjust, because there was nothing to adjust to, and it was his mind that adjusted instead. There was something curled up where the ground met the wall, some shape of darker shadow that the light seemed unable to touch. Blue luminescence rippled across the floor around it, as though it sat not on stone but a thin sheen of water.

Link's left hand, which had been tightly gripping his sword, loosened slightly as he realized that the shape in question was no monster, but human. It hugged its knees to its chest and whimpered fearfully, head buried in its arms. It looked to be a boy about Link's age: one of Zelda's soldiers, perhaps, trapped by the sealing curse after failing to kill the beast?

"Go away…" it whispered into its arms, and its voice was a soft tenor, definitely human.

Slightly reassured, Link finally sheathed his sword. "It's alright," he stated kindly. "I've come to help you."

The boy was silent, but his shoulders shook as if with sobs.

"Zelda brought me here," the hero explained. "I can help you; I can kill the monster, and then we can both walk out of here alive."

"Go away… Not real…"

Becoming exasperated, Link ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "Look, I'm not going to hurt you. Just tell me where the creature is." He took a step forward, into the light. And that's when everything went horribly wrong.

The boy's head snapped up, and Link saw his eyes glint blood red under the black hair hanging in his face. Those eyes were _not_ human. That was the only warning he got before the blue light leapt up around him and the world… pulsed.

Like the deep bass rhythm of the universe's heartbeat, a _whUMFH_ of soundless vibration hurtled through Link, pounding into the atoms of his very bones. A throb of blinding light, and…

And he was standing in the midst of a shimmering lake, the water still as glass and yet rippling with light, solid as stone beneath his boots. A silvery mist hung in the air, chilling his skin. The dark-haired boy sat against the decaying roots of a twisted gray tree which grew impossibly from the surface of the water and stared up at him with malice in his eyes.

"No…" he… _It_… hissed miserably. "Go away… Not real, not real!" It pushed Itself to Its feet, swaying, Its back to the tree, and continued to moan.

Of its own accord, Link's hand had reached for his sword. He drew it without hesitation, and unslung the metal shield from his back. So this was the form the monster took. As for the mysterious lake, Link had no doubt it was some sort of hallucination: his other senses told him he was still in the dark cell, even if all he could see was water.

The beast clutched at Its head. "Go away… No… It hurts, it _hurts_!"

And It threw back Its head and screamed.


	3. Dark

**Chapter Three**

**Dark**

Ilia and Zelda stood in the dim corridor, torchlight flickering across their faces. Link had been gone a full five minutes, and Ilia tried to drown out her anxious thoughts by tracing the dark stains on the stone floor with her foot. Seeing as they were probably blood, this wasn't helping much. Beside her Zelda stood regally. The princess showed no sign of worry, and her calm eyes never left the dark doorway. A flake of red paint fell from the sinister message on the door, but other than that the hallway was completely silent and still.

Then came the scream.

The hairs on the back of Ilia's neck stood on end as the sound tore through the doorway and echoed around the narrow corridor.

"Link!" Ilia gasped, but Zelda thrust out an arm to keep her from running wildly into the darkness.

"That was not Link's voice," she explained composedly. "I take it, however, that he has discovered the monster. If you rush in now, you will only get in the way."

The shepherdess gaped at her. "How can you be so _calm_? He could die in there! How can you not want to give him all the help you can?"

"I am well aware of what Link is risking in doing me this favor," Zelda stated, a bit more harshly than seemed necessary. "But what little help my magic could offer him in this instance is outweighed by the concentration he would have to put forward to protect me from the beast. You, Ilia of Ordon, have nothing to grant him in the way of magic, so I suggest you hang back and let him finish what he has started."

"You don't understand," Ilia protested. "You don't _know_ him. You didn't grow up with him like I did." She wished she could make Zelda comprehend. The princess had followed Link's quest with interest, true, and most likely she knew the extent of Link's strength and skill more so than Ilia, but this was no longer about strength. Link had reached his limit down in these dungeons. Why couldn't Zelda see the way he shook with exhaustion, the way he could barely stand?

But Zelda was smiling at her coolly. "Honestly, Ilia. Have you not more faith in your hero?"

Moved to silence, Ilia could only blush hotly and return to staring at the ground. Another few agonizingly slow minutes passed by. Twenty minutes, Link had told her. Not so long ago, twenty minutes had seemed like an eternity.

Only it was fifteen minutes now.

Fourteen…

Thirteen…

{oOo}

The creature lunged at Link with a scream of fury, and he hurriedly raised his shield. His adversary dashed Itself against the engraved metal. The shield, and consequently Link's arm, was forced backwards into his chest at a painful angle. It was useless; he had no strength left to block the blow. His knees gave way and the two of them went down together. Link's back struck the surface of the water without so much as a ripple, which made sense considering it was in reality solid stone.

The creature's nails raked at his face, but Link shoved It away with the shield and in the same movement rolled, so that they switched positions and it was the creature being pinned to the ground.

_End it now!_ he thought desperately, and his left hand came around to bury the blade of his sword in Its exposed throat. The creature shrieked and writhed beneath him, trapped by the pressure of Link's shield on Its chest, but Link realized too late that Its arms were free.

Midway through what would have been his ending blow, Link was stopped midswing as the creature's hands closed around his neck. He choked, and the sword slipped from his grasp and clattered uselessly to the ground as his arms lost all strength. The nails dug in. Link felt a split second of fear as he realized It meant to rip out his throat. He jerked backwards, out of Its grasp, but now the thing was freed from beneath his shield.

There was a moment of uncertainty as they stared at one another, Link in a half-crouch, the creature sprawled across the ground, and then simultaneously both pairs of eyes flickered towards Link's abandoned sword.

They both lunged for the hilt.

One of them got there first.

{oOo}

Eight minutes left, said the countdown in Ilia's head. In the blackness shouts resonated, the sounds that of wordless hatred, fear, and pain. Metal clashed on stone. Ilia felt sick, as though if she didn't find out what was happening to Link soon she might just die from the apprehension.

Seven minutes…

{oOo}

Link's fingertips brushed the haft of the sword, but the creature's fist was already there, pulling it away.

The hero didn't have time to escape.

The sword was a flash of silver, gleaming with the shimmering reflections that shone off the unreal water as it rose, and a hot stab of pain ripped through Link's chest. Dripping blood, he stood and staggered backwards. His back met the dead tree, and he ducked out of the way when the creature scrambled to Its feet and swung the sword again. The blade sliced deep into the wood and stuck.

_But it was solid stone!_ came the frantic thought, and then he was dodging again as the weapon came free.

So the rules had changed. Yes, this was a hallucination, but it was at the same time _real_, enough at least to fool a sword. And that meant that the senses telling him he was in a dark stone dungeon no longer applied...

Link's legs trembled. The fight had become a kind of deadly dance: he dodged and parried with his shield and the creature's blows rained down with the precision of an expert swordsman who, with no regard for Its own life, really wanted him dead. Blood from the wound in his chest and a hundred tiny cuts spattered across the surface of the water. He couldn't keep this up.

Two minutes…

{oOo}

Ilia wanted to scream. She wanted to shout and dash into the darkness beyond, and knew at the same time that doing so would be pointless and stupid.

Her miserable, fearful eyes fell upon those hateful words painted across the door. _And she knew what to do._ She didn't dare mention it to Zelda, because she knew the princess would try and stop her, but she understood beyond a shadow of a doubt that she could save Link's life. The shepherdess stared silently, trembling, at the peeling paint.

One minute…

{oOo}

Link's back struck the tree, and the shield dropped from his shaking hands. Exhaustion, blood loss, and pain were making the world swim dangerously out of focus, and he fought to stand upright. The beast gave a shout of pained triumph -yes, it was indeed _pain_, though why It should feel such when It hadn't acquired a single wound the hero couldn't imagine- and brought the blade down across Link's shoulder. Link screamed as it bit into his skin, into his bone, and hot red blood streamed down his already gore-soaked tunic.

It released the hilt, and the sword clattered to the water by Link's feet. The creature was trembling again, left hand held to Its head as though It had been struck, but the right hand reached out and rested almost gently on Link's chest.

"Hurts…" It whispered piteously. "Make it not hurt… Have to _kill_ it… Pretty blood… Pretty water…"

The pressure of Its hand over his heart was as slight as a child's, but Link was powerless to push It away. Somewhere in his pain-wracked thoughts he felt… was it pity? This creature was insane, driven to a kind of delirious madness that came from living Its life in the dark. He would have felt more sympathy for It had It not been trying to kill him.

Three seconds…

Those garnet eyes met his own.

Two seconds…

"Hurts…" It whimpered.

One second…

And Its hand sank insubstantial as mist through his chest and wrapped Its blood-stained fingers around his soul.

_Time's up._

{oOo}

Time's up. The numbers running through Ilia's mind ground to a screeching halt, and she nearly screamed at the sudden pressure weighing down on her thoughts. _He's not back. It's been twenty minutes and he's not back. He's dead, he's dead, he's _dead_!_

From the dark doorway came nothing but silence.

Beside Ilia, Zelda shook her head. "I suspect this means…" She seemed eerily calm, but then again the princess seldom displayed much grief. Ilia wondered, in a sort of pained haze, if Zelda really ever felt anything for anyone. Had Hyrule's ruler never been in love? "He couldn't kill it, then," she finished quietly. "I thought he was strong enough. I was wrong."

_Dead, dead, dead…_ screamed Ilia's thoughts. She couldn't speak; afraid the same words would come tearing out of her mouth. _Dead! Dead, and Zelda, _you_ killed him!_

Zelda turned sharply and set off into the shadowed hallways, only pausing when Ilia's trembling voice made her realize the Ordonian woman was not following.

The faint whisper that had escaped Ilia's lips was this: "_How can you not care?_"

The princess stood as motionless as a statue, so that Ilia could only see her back, and the light of the torch in her hand glinted off her golden hair. "I do care. More than you will ever know, child. But there is no time for grief; I must find another warrior to slay the beast, and supervise the rebuilding of my kingdom, and take care of one hundred other things that are set upon my shoulders. I cannot afford to care anymore." She looked back at Ilia, and there was pity in her eyes. "If you wish to wait by the door a while longer…" Her tone of voice betrayed that she thought it would be pointless. "I will leave the torch, and light the way with my own magic."

Ilia nodded numbly. She was only vaguely aware of Zelda pressing the nearly burned-out torch into her limp hands, only dimly conscious of the fact that the princess was walking away, enveloped in the golden glow of her triforce-bearing hand. Then the older woman was gone, and Ilia was left alone in front of the dark entry, her only companion the guttering orange light.

And again came the knowledge. _I could save him_. If Link was still alive, if there was even the faintest chance that he still breathed the air of the living world, then she could save him. Perhaps the unknown monster would kill her, and all of Hyrule, in the process. Perhaps she would arrive to find his mangled body and die for nothing, but she suddenly realized that she didn't care.

Because, whatever she may have told Link, she wasn't here to see Epona.

The shepherdess stepped forward to stand at the very edge of the sinister doorway and did what she never would have dreamed of doing were Zelda still there. She raised one trembling hand and struck her fingernails against the open iron door. With a screeching scrape as they ground against the ancient metal, she drug them across the evil words of the sealing curse and shivered as the paint peeled away and wild black magic broke free and roared away down the corridor like an icy wind.

The barrier on the room shattered, and Ilia of Ordon, torch in hand, stepped through into the shadows.

{oOo}

It saw light. It had never seen light before, or if It had, It could not remember. Tiny, wavering, beautiful light that danced across the lake… no, across the harsh bloodstained stone walls of Its cell. It blinked, and the lake seemed to flicker around It before completely fading away. The light burned its way through the red mist clouding Its eyes and blessedly soothed the pain pounding in Its skull.

Thought, memory, all the things that made Its mind remotely human came rushing back, and It found Itself laughing: how pretty was this thing called light! And then, slowly, It realized that It was covered in blood. It couldn't remember why. Its eyes filled with panic as It stared at the being across from It, leaning beaten and half-dead against the wall. Torchlight played across a face somewhat like Its own, but much paler, with blue eyes and blond hair matted with sweat and blood.

Its right arm was solid as smoke and buried nearly to the elbow in the being's chest. Giving a cry of terror, It pulled the offending limb away and felt it grow corporeal again. The stranger made a little sound of pain and closed his eyes, breathing heavily and painfully, but still alive as he slid down the wall and landed in a sitting position at its base, leaving a long smear of blood. It backed away, knowing with dread It had almost done something terrible.

The little light drew nearer, and a high-pitched voice echoed through the huge room. "Link! Link, where are you?"

Immediately the recent events were forgotten, and a smile of childlike wonder crossed Its face as the light-bearer came into view. The thing It had nearly killed, the sparkling lake, the red mist; no, that was never real. This pretty voice, this pretty light, _this_ was real. It laughed again. _Pretty little light. Pretty light, so different than It_… It had never before had anything to separate the darkness of the outside world from the darkness behind Its own eyes. Now, the world was a beautiful thing of flickering orange and yellow and brightness and warmth, and so very apart from It.

_No,_ It realized, _Not "It" anymore. Me._ _I am me._ Outside was the light. _What am I that makes me different? I am the dark on the inside. I am the dark. I am Dark._

For the first moment in a very, _very_ long time, Dark was happy.


	4. Remember

**Chapter 4**

**Remember**

The roar of the rain outside grew more insistent, now punctuated by _cracks_ of violent thunder which sounded in the distance. The ceiling of Telma's Bar had begun to leak, and Dark stopped his story long enough to help her search around the room for buckets or jars to catch the stray drips. "It's the cheap mortar," Telma explained, positioning a clay jar beneath a particularly nasty leak. "I had to have half the ceiling replaced during the reconstruction, and it's never been the same since. I've been meaning to have it fixed, but you know how it is."

Dark nodded to show that he indeed knew how it was.

"Anyhow, this story of yours," she continued. "I can't wait to hear the next bit."

"It isn't as scary as the first bit." said Dark.

Telma laughed. "Well, you tell it well enough, anyhow. So what happens after…?"

But she was cut off as the door slammed open, and a flash of stark white lightning illuminated the silhouette of a man standing against the rain-washed doorway. The man looked much the same as Dark had, drenched and caked with mud, like some creature out of a horror story, but when he spoke, it was in a smooth, oddly accented voice: that of a scholar. "It's raining like the Goddesses weep out there. How in blazes I even managed to _find_ this place in all that deluge is beyond me."

"Hello, Master Shad," said Dark meekly.

The man named Shad pulled off his round little rain-streaked spectacles and gaped. "I know that voice… Derek of Ordon?" He squinted, utterly blind without the glasses he was hopelessly trying to clean on his grimy coat. "It _is_, isn't it. I haven't seen you in months! As a matter of fact, I still can't see you. Telma, have you got anything clean I could wipe these on?"

"I'm going to have no towels left by the time this night is through," Telma muttered good-naturedly. "Come sit down, and how many times do I have to remind you to _shut the door_. You're letting the rain in."

The shadow cast a glance at the leaky ceiling and refrained from mentioning that the rain was already in.

"Really, Shad," she was adding as the scholar found a seat at the bar, "You could have just sent me another pigeon. You didn't have to come all the way over here in the rain."

Shad shook his head. "I sent copies of your letter out to everyone else, and I didn't have a bird left over. Anyhow, in answer to your message, I haven't seen Ilia and I'd like to help search for her."

"Fine then," said Telma, smiling. She still didn't seem at all worried about Ilia, confident perhaps that one of the others would have seen her. Dark didn't share her assurance. He fidgeted nervously while the two of them spoke, possessed by a kind of childlike reluctance to interrupt. "If no one else knows where she is, we'll spread out and search," Telma finished. "In the meantime, Derek was just telling me the most exciting story."

"Were you, Derek?" Shad asked. "Well, while we wait for the others to arrive, I'd love to hear it. Mind if I listen in?"

Telma shot the young scholar an amused look and stated, "Well, I've already heard the first part, and he's _not_ repeating it."

Shad merely smiled. "Don't fret on my account, Telma. I'll try and keep up."

Dark looked from one beaming face to the other, a bit thrown by their mutual belief that Ilia was just fine. "I… forgot where I left off," he apologized. "It was in the dungeons, wasn't it?" Telma gave confirmation, and he continued. "Well, Ilia came running in and she found me and Link: both of us covered in blood. I think she assumed the same thing Link did; that I was one of Zelda's soldiers, and she asked me… begged me, actually, to help her get him aboveground before he bled to death."

Shad let out a low whistle of awe. "I can see I came into this tale at an inopportune time. Are you sure you don't want to fill me in?"

"No." Telma snapped. When she turned her attention to Dark, she was all syrup and smiles again. "You're voice just isn't loud enough; if you don't speak up Shad'll keep interrupting till doomsday."

"I do _not_ interrupt all the time!" Shad interrupted.

"My point exactly," the barkeeper said slyly. "Show Derek some mercy and keep your mouth shut for once." She sat back thoughtfully for a moment and listened to the rain outside. "Well, go on, Derek, what happens next?"

Despite how worried about Ilia he was feeling, a feeble smile still crossed Dark's face. "Next was Ilia of Ordon."

{oOo}

_It's not fair._ Against the silence of the night, the wagon's rumbling wheels sounded far too loud as they rattled against their shafts at every pothole in Hyrule Field's ill-kept dirt roads. Ilia wanted to clap her hands to her ears, to block out the horrible noise and let herself sink into silence, and at the same time didn't know why something as simple as a sound could have her so upset.

She wanted to cry, or to scream, or to do… something; something other than sit here and listen to the vibrating wagon wheels that seemed to jeer at her with each jolt of the cart. It wasn't the wheels she was upset at, but there was nothing else to take out her misery on, and so she focused it all on that terrible noise in the hopes that in being angry at something, her anger would somehow lessen.

Ilia sat wretchedly against one of the canvas sides and stared in hopeless silence out at the night darkness and the deserted road panning out behind them. Up front, Rusl held the reigns of the horses loosely in one hand, the other resting on the hilt of a sword at his belt. Hyrule Field may have looked peaceful, but it was the prowling ground of a number of deadly monsters. When she turned to look in his direction Ilia could just see him through the gap in the canvas. An unconscious Link lay wrapped in blankets beside her, unresponsive save for the low moans of pain that escaped him every time the wagon hit a bump in the road. Ilia ran a sympathetic hand through his golden hair and continued looking out into the night.

And again she thought that it wasn't _fair_. That it shouldn't have happened like this. She had done all she could, hadn't she? She had managed to bring him out of the dungeon, up into the open air where already the reds and oranges of sunset were painting the western sky. Somehow, although how she had managed to think clearly enough through her panic to do so she would never know, she had half-dragged, half-carried Link to the doctor in East Castle Town, hoping beyond hope that there was still enough blood left in his body to necessitate bandages.

She had left him there. It had been the hardest thing she had ever had to do in her entire life, but she had left him there and run with streaming eyes through the darkening streets of Castle Town, thoughtless of footpads or street thugs, to Telma's bar on South Street, where she and Rusl had rented rooms for the night. She needed to find Rusl. She needed help, because she was too frightened and hysteric to be of any use on her own. And of course Rusl had held her against the thick wool at his chest and let her vent her misery, and stroked her hair like her father used to do when she was little, while murmuring into her ears that everything would be fine, but it _wasn't_, it _wasn't fair_…

And all the while she was terrified that Link would be dead before she got back.

That stupid, _stupid_ doctor. She hated him. She hated the way he had stood there in that sterile, canvas-partitioned office that stank of potions and bleach and looked her calmly up and down as if everything was normal, as if the world hadn't ended.

The danger was past, the doctor had said. Link would recover, given time. The wound in his chest would leave an ugly scar, but it would heal, and he would live. But that arm -Link's left arm with the horrible gash half-severing it at the shoulder, splitting the muscle and hewing the bone- would never wield a sword again, indeed, would probably never _move _again, and that was stupid and untrue and _not_ _fair_.

Link would be fine, she knew it. He'd show them all; he'd be back to his old self in no time, practicing his sword techniques against the old scarecrow in front of his house. He had to, because Ilia didn't want to imagine the look on his face when he finally regained consciousness and she would have to tell him why he couldn't move his arm. It would have to be she that told him, because she knew for a fact that the whole thing was her fault. If she had only been faster in breaking the sealing curse, or had brought him to the doctor a few minutes sooner, or done any number of things differently, then she was sure it never would have happened this way. It _wasn't fair!_

And those awful wheels rumbled on, drilling their noise into the inside of her skull and making it impossible to think. Her hands clenched in her lap.

Another hand, its skin dark as the night outside the wagon, reached over and rested gently on her own. Ilia looked up and blinked back the tears that she hadn't realized were pooling unshed in her eyes, and stared at the boy sitting across from her in the wagon. The young man she had found with Link in the monster's chamber peered at her through long, unkempt bangs of black hair. His eyes glinted red against his dark skin while the rest of him seemed to melt into the shadows, invisible.

A small, hesitant smile crossed his face as their eyes met, so like that of a child that all of Ilia's anger and frustration seemed to melt away at the sight of it. Had it not been for his help, Ilia knew, she would never have been able to carry Link out of those dungeons, and for that she owed him a debt of gratitude. Had he not promised to stay behind with Link in the doctor's house while she ran to find Rusl, she never would have been able to tear herself away, and would have stayed there without a familiar face to comfort her until the grief ate her away from the inside out, and for that she owed him her sanity. And she didn't even know his name.

"I never said thank you," she murmured, looking away and feeling oddly aware of the slight pressure of his hand on hers. Was that faint, quivering sound really her voice? "So… thank you."

He remained silent, and it occurred to her that she had never heard him speak.

"I'm Ilia, by the way," she added. It felt good to talk. If nothing else it at least drowned out the noise of the wagon wheels. "Ilia of Ordon. That's Rusl driving the wagon. And this," She ran her free hand through Link's hair again. "is Link. He's famous, you know. He killed Ganondorf and rescued princess Zelda." _And he could do it all over again,_ she told herself, _because his arm will be just fine._ Though she wasn't sure she would want princess Zelda to be rescued; after all, she was the one who had sent Link into that dungeon to die in the first place. "I guess it was rude of me not to ask before, but what's your name?" she asked the boy, and he seemed to hesitate for a long time, as if unsure, before responding. When he finally spoke it was in a soft, tenor voice, as disarming as his smile.

"Dark."

"Derek?" she repeated, unsure of whether or not she had misheard. Dark wasn't a real name, was it?

The boy mouthed the word a few times, testing the feel of it between his lips. "Yes. Derek."

So she had misheard, after all. She nodded and smiled encouragingly at him, far more optimistically than she really felt. "Nice to meet you, Derek."

The wagon rumbled on for a while, but its wheels seemed to have lost some of their power over Ilia. She sat in the darkness and let her eyelids grow heavy, feeling the exhaustion of the day finally settle over her like a warm blanket that muffled sound and made her head feel as though her thoughts were wrapped in cotton. Link's moans had ceased; he had finally passed into a deeper, painless sleep, and for that Ilia was thankful. As her thoughts drifted she was vaguely aware that she and Derek were still holding hands, but she did nothing to stop it. He was her friend now. They had been bound together by mutual fear and pain, and then once again by a simple sharing of names in the back of a wagon on a dark road headed for Ordon Village. Besides, his hand felt nice.

"Derek?" she murmured sleepily, and he stared unblinkingly at her with those strange red eyes. "Can… can I ask you something?"

No response, but it wasn't as if he had denied her the question, and so she continued.

"How did you end up down there in the dungeons? Did Zelda send you to kill the monster?"

He was silent for a long time, but this time Ilia could tell it was because he was thinking very deeply about something. Already she was beginning to detect a pattern in the way he spoke and interacted with her, which seemed strange considering he had only said a total of three words to her since they'd met. It seemed to her as if every time he spoke he had to stop and consider beforehand, as if trying very hard to find the right words, or indeed, any words at all. As if with every word he said he had to relearn that he possessed a voice. There was a sense of recognition there, although Ilia couldn't place exactly why his behavior seemed so familiar.

After what seemed like an eternity, Derek spoke again. "Don't… remember."

"You don't remember how you got there?"

A long pause, and then, "No."

Ilia wondered whether he had truly forgotten or simply didn't _want_ to remember; if his own battle with the beast had turned out similarly traumatic results, and he had no desire to talk about it. Understandingly, she let the subject drop. "So, Derek, where are you from?" she asked instead, trying to force some lightheartedness into her voice. It felt strange to be making small talk after everything that had happened that day, but she still felt terrible and talking to Derek seemed to created a veneer over some of that pain, masking it just enough to keep her from drowning in her own anxiety. "Do you live in Castle Town?"

Derek looked away with something akin to shame in his eyes, and Ilia was surprised to feel his hand tighten almost imperceptibly over her own. He spoke with the air of someone admitting to a wicked secret. "Don't remember."

Her heart sank in her chest as she suddenly began to realize exactly why Derek seemed so familiar, and she asked with an anxious, uncertain voice, "That blood all over you is Link's, isn't it? How did…" Oh, goddesses, did she dare ask this? "How did it get there?"

Even before he answered, she already had an idea of what that answer might be.

"Don't remember."

His hand was gripping hers so tightly that it almost hurt. When he finally looked at her again there was dejection in his expression, and she realized that he was frightened. She squeezed his hand comfortingly. She knew what that fear felt like.

Not so long ago, before Ganondorf had taken over Hyrule and imposed twilight upon the world, peril was already finding its way into peaceful Ordon Village. It had seemed like such a beautiful summer day; that fateful hour when she and Link and some of the Ordonian children had been splashing around in the Ordon spirit spring just north of the village. Right up until the moment when a couple of boar-riding rouge Bublins charged into the clearing and started wreaking havoc…

Ilia could remember screaming and turning to run, hearing the taught _twang _of a bowstring and feeling the fire-sharp pain of a barbed Bublin arrow piercing her back. Falling, falling for what seemed like an eternity before finally hitting the water, and painfully pushing herself upwards just in time to see a second Bublin riding just behind the first on the boar's back raise a heavy wooden club in the air and bring it down on Link's head with a _crack_. The pain finally overwhelming her, and the world fading into darkness…

That was what had sent Link on his quest to begin with; the Bublins had taken her and the children captive, and he had set off to free them. But whatever had happened -and she truly wished she knew what _did_ happen- between the time she was captured and the time Link had found her again had been far too traumatic for her to deal with as alone and scared as she was. And because she wasn't ready to deal with it yet, some inner switch in her mind had simply shut itself off. When Link finally arrived to rescue her, she had stared at him with blank, uncomprehending eyes and hadn't even remembered his name.

Oh yes, she knew exactly what that kind of fear felt like.

"Derek," she whispered, and he shuddered slightly. "Derek, what _do_ you remember?"

Again that pause, and finally he answered in garbled, broken Hylian, "Water. Pretty water. Someone walking… The dark and the pain and the red mist and the _pain_." Now his grasp did hurt, but Ilia made no move to dislodge his hand, recalling the time when her own mind had been broken, and how much she would have given to have someone's hand to hold on to, to keep her anchored to something solid and real in a strangely unfamiliar world.

"Derek, do you have a… sickness of the mind?"

"It hurt…" he whimpered. "Still hurts. Hurts… Make it not hurt…" He put his free hand to his temple and closed his eyes, and Ilia pityingly squeezed his hand again.

"It's alright. You're not the only one, you know. I've been there too." And she was still there, though in a different way, because her pain was on the inside right then, and until Link woke up again it would stay inside and no one could make it not hurt. "I think the trick is to remember that it won't hurt forever."

"Il'ya?" murmured Derek. It was the first time she had ever heard him speak her name.

"Yeah?" Her answer sounded tired and slurred. Perhaps her voice was giving out as she was lulled by the motion of the wagon and sleep finally claimed her. What an odd group we make, she thought. Rusl up front staring straight ahead with his hand at his weapon, and Link lying unconscious on the floor and looking for all the world as if he were already dead, and me and Derek sitting here in the darkness and feeling alone… Only not so alone as we might have been, because we're alone together.

But Derek didn't say anything more, and it seemed to Ilia like the canvas sides of the wagon were melting away into the night, and the rocking motion caused by its jostling wheels melded seamlessly into the rise and fall of waves on the sea, and before she even realized that she had closed her eyes she was already drifting off to sleep.

{oOo}

A few hours later, as the sun rose and threw Hyrule Field into a haze of pale morning light, the wagon finally reached the green-gray shadows the canopy of leaves that marked the boundary of Faron Woods. Rusl glanced back through the canvas to see Ilia still sleeping peacefully. She had curled up next to Link on the wooden floor of the wagon, her head resting in Derek's lap, and the shadow was running a gentle finger over the curve of her jawbone as if mesmerized by the shape of her face. He stirred and looked up when Rusl's eyes passed over him.

Rusl smiled disarmingly. He had of course heard the previous night's conversation between Derek and Ilia, but it had seemed rude to interrupt that kind of moment. Now he simply greeted the boy with a friendly, "Hello there, Derek. My name's Rusl."

Derek smiled tentatively back at him.

Rusl hadn't expected an answer, and so he continued. "This place is called Faron Woods. There are a lot of beautiful places in Hyrule, but I personally think that this forest is one of the best. Want to come up front and see?" Derek cast a questioning look at Ilia, and Rusl laughed and added, "She'll be alright. That girl can sleep like a stone when she's tired enough. Come on, then."

He moved aside on his seat to allow the boy to scramble through the gap in the canvas and join him. Derek immediately took to staring around at the forest canopy with enthusiasm. High above, the trees made a pattern of green and gold light through which birds and insects flitted in great, graceful arcs. Wind shook the leaves and made a _rush_, _rush_ sound to mingle with the high-pitched warble of bird-calls and chirrup of cicadas and crickets. It was indeed beautiful.

They remained this way, sitting side-by-side in silence, with Rusl guiding the horses and Derek staring with awe at the leafy canopy above until at last they reached the outskirts of Ordon village, lit with a peaceful golden glow in the morning sunlight. From the look on Derek's face, Rusl could tell at once that it was the most amazing thing he had ever seen.

{oOo}

Link slept for a long time, and as the days passed the people of Ordon had to wonder if he would ever awaken. His wounds were healing, true, but from the deathly pallor of his skin, who was to say there wasn't something wrong with him internally, something the Castle Town doctor had missed? All anyone could do was wait and see.


	5. Uli's Advice

**Chapter Five**

**Uli's Advice**

Ilia visited Link almost every day, climbing up the porch steps of the little house where Rusl, his wife Uli, and his son Colin lived, stepping carefully around the little piles of gifts and good-luck charms and fresh-cut flowers that littered the porch, left there by the other villagers as a symbol of their silent hopes. Ilia was always sure to leave something as well, a flower, a ribbon, a brightly colored stone, smooth from the stream. In the last few days it had become a little ritual which she preformed almost without thinking. Climb the steps, leave a gift, and knock quietly on the door. And it was Uli's ritual to open the door just a crack and peer out, and exclaim, "Oh, it's Ilia and Derek," as if she didn't already know.

In the soft, comforting candlelight of Rusl and Uli's one-room cottage, Ilia sat silently in one of the wicker rocking chairs by the couch, letting it sway her gently back and forth, and stared at where her hands were fidgeting on her lap. She didn't look up; content to simply listen to Link's rhythmic breathing as he lay on the couch beside her. It always bothered her vaguely, once she got there, what exactly she was supposed be doing. How could she bring herself to talk to him when he couldn't even hear her? How could she reach out and touch him when she secretly knew that it was she who had caused him such pain? And so she sat in silence and stared down at her hands.

"Tea?" Ilia looked up to see Uli standing over her, a tray of tea-things in her hands. "It's mint," she offered.

"Thank you," Ilia murmured gratefully, and took a cup. She sipped from it, and the tea was hot and sweet.

"You shouldn't worry so much," Uli chided kindly as she went to set the tray aside and poured a cup for herself. "Link is very strong, and he's healing very well; no infections. You saved his life by getting help as soon as you did." She sat down in another wickerwork rocker next to Ilia and blew on her tea so that the steam swirled. The tiny house seemed oddly quiet with only Uli living there. Her children had gone to stay with another family in the village, and though Rusl had been eager to stay and help Uli had told him in no uncertain terms that nursing a person back to health required a woman's touch and he would only get in the way. This being Uli she had told him gently, but in Rusl's mind his wife's words carried a great amount of weight.

Ilia nodded noncommittally at Uli's words and drank her tea.

"What about you, Derek?" Uli asked, turning her attention to the shadowy being sitting quietly on the floor in the far corner of the room. "Do you like tea?"

Uli had found Derek some paper and a set of colored chalks belonging to Colin, and the shadow had been drawing happily in his own little world ever since. He gave a start at being addressed directly and looked questioningly at Ilia, unable to find the words to answer.

"I don't think Derek's ever tried tea," Ilia explained to Uli, and then, to Derek, "Go ahead and try it, and then you can see if you like it or not." He smiled and nodded, and Uli went to fetch him a cup.

Derek's sickness of the mind was by now common knowledge among the people of Ordon, though no one ever actually mentioned it where Ilia could hear. She supposed it would have been impossible to keep something like that a secret; the childlike way in which Derek viewed the world was enough to give it away. Despite this, the villagers had been happy to make him a part of their community. Derek now slept on a pallet made up for him in the corner of the main room in Mayor Bo's house. This was mostly due to Ilia's insistence. ("But Daddy, he needs a place to stay, and I already told him we had room at our house, please?") The fact that she'd told everyone how he was the hero who'd helped her save Link probably helped as well.

The quiet, peculiar young man had become like Ilia's second shadow, following her around everywhere and perfectly content so long as he could be in her general vicinity. It was a bit like having a little brother: a little brother who was older, taller, and quite possibly not the same species.

Uli had finished poured another cup of tea, and she set it on the little round table in the center of the room and beckoned Derek over. "Come on then, Derek. You can't drink it while you're sitting on the floor." Curiously, Derek abandoned his chalk drawing and went to investigate the steaming amber liquid. "Careful. It's still hot."

The older woman sat down again and turned back to Ilia. "I know very well what you're thinking, Ilia of Ordon, and you can stop that right now. It doesn't make sense to blame yourself for things that aren't your fault."

"I don't blame myself for anything," Ilia lied quietly, because it really wasn't something she wanted to talk about.

Uli smiled at her sadly. "Listen, dear... Just so you know, sometimes things happen, and they aren't anyone's fault. Sometimes..." she trailed off slowly and took a sip of her tea. "When Colin was born he was so small and sickly. I thought I was to blame; that I'd done something wrong or I wasn't a good enough mother, and that's why he wasn't a strong, healthy baby like Sera's Beth. But even though he's such a weak boy it only makes him try twice as hard to be strong, and I think that in the end he was meant to be that way. Sometimes the things that happen are for the better."

"But what if it wasn't meant to happen?" The young shepherdess stared down into her cup of tea and watched the bits of tea leaves drift around at the bottom. "Link, I mean, not Colin. Colin's wonderful the way he is."

Uli's teacup met the table with a tiny _clink_, and she sat back in her rocker and folded her hands in her lap. "Then you love him anyway, Ilia. Because just like Colin, Link will still be wonderful the way he is. You know him far too well to think he'll be angry with you or blame you for anything."

Maybe he should, she thought.

Rusl's wife gave her a small wink. "Besides, if you must blame someone, you should be blaming the monst-"

_CRASH!_

The cacophony of breaking china pierced the quiet air, and the room around them flickered, as if for a moment the universe had pulsed out of existence. Silvery light flashed in front of Ilia's vision. Swirling mist. A tree. An endless, mirror-still lake...

It was over in a heartbeat, before she'd even had time to blink, and Ilia found herself sitting once more in one of Uli's old wicker chairs as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. She and Uli stared at each other for a moment in shock. Had Uli seen it as well, then? But a moment later the older woman gave her head a small shake as if clearing her thoughts, and murmured, "Oh Derek, I did warn you it was hot."

Ilia gave a small sigh of relief when she saw that Derek had dropped his teacup. She was too wound up; she was jumping at the slightest things. Derek looked down guiltily at the shards of broken china littering the ground and the pool of still-scalding tea spreading slowly across the floorboards. "It was hot..." he muttered quietly, shrinking back from the mess. "I didn't mean... It hurt me and I dropped it."

"That's alright, Derek, we'll get it cleaned up," Uli assured him, her manner turning instantly to motherly. "You didn't burn yourself, did you? Here, let me see... Ilia, could you go outside and get me a towel off the washing line?"

Ilia nodded and rose from her chair, slipping outside while Uli was still fussing over Derek.

The young shepherdess wound her way through the scattered well-wishers' gifts for the second time that day in order to reach the porch steps. Someone, most likely Talo, had left another one while she'd been inside: a gnarled piece of wood that looked a bit like a little Bublin making faces. She smiled at that. It was just like Talo to think something so ugly would make a good gift.

The washing line was around the side of the house. It had been fixed to a window on one end, and to a scraggly tree on the other, and a few of Rusl's shirts were hung up to dry and wafted slightly in the breeze. Ilia selected a suitable towel and turned to go back into the house, only to narrowly avoid walking straight into Rusl.

"Oh!" said Ilia, sidestepping quickly. "I'm sorry, I didn't see you-"

"Is everything alright?" he interrupted, looking oddly worried. "I heard something breaking."

"Oh, that. Nothing's wrong, Derek just dropped a teacup." She gestured vaguely with the towel.

Rusl's face broke into a relieved smile. "I suppose I've just been thinking too much lately. Uli being all alone in the house most of the time... I get too worried."

She nodded in understanding. After everything that had happened in the last few months - the twilight, the monster attacks, and now Link's injuries - who wouldn't find it difficult to finally settle down?

Uli's husband looked around carefully and leaned in towards her. "On that note, I've been meaning to talk to you about something ever since we got back from Castle Town, but I haven't really had the opportunity."

Ilia gave him a puzzled look. "Why not? It's been a few days now and I've seen you plenty of times..."

"I meant in private," he amended. "Without Derek always following you around. Do you mind...?"

"No, of course not," she answered, wondering what Rusl had to tell her that couldn't be said in front of Derek. "I suppose Uli can wait on the towel, if it's important."

Rusl's smile turned slightly grim. "In all honesty, I hope it's not."

{oOo}

He insisted that they talk somewhere further from the house; somewhere where they couldn't possibly be overheard, and so it was with growing anxiety that Ilia found herself seated on a worn wooden keepsake chest in Link's now unoccupied house. One of Link's shirts had been tossed casually over the back of a nearby chair, and her eyes kept coming back to it.

She gave a deliberate blink and instead watched Rusl's back as the older man stood on the other side of the small main room and ran a hand over Link's belongings, his shield and bloodied sword, scattered carelessly across a tabletop. "I should get around to cleaning this," she heard Rusl mutter, and the haft of the sword rocked back and forth slightly when he tapped his fingers against it. "It'll rust otherwise, and he'll be needing it."

"Could you just... tell me what you have to say," Ilia heard herself blurt out. She put a hand to her lips immediately; she hadn't meant to say anything out loud. But the longer she sat and said nothing the more she realized that she didn't want to be here, not in this house. Not now. The whole place belonged too much to Link.

He nodded and turned to look at her. "I'm sorry for the secrecy, Ilia. Like I said before, I've been thinking far too much in the last few days, and I wouldn't want to worry anyone else."

She supposed she understood.

"Well, do you remember that conversation you had with Derek on the way back to Ordon?"

"You overheard that?" Ilia asked, going a little red in the face and trying to remember if she'd said anything too embarrassing.

"I couldn't help but hear it; you were sitting right behind me. But what he said to you about not remembering why he was covered in Link's blood... That's what worries me. I wonder if you've really considered what that means."

"You're saying he's the one who attacked Link," she answered flatly.

"He might have. Or it might have been something completely different. The point is that we don't know."

Ilia frowned up at him. "Don't say that. I did think about something like that for a minute, back in the wagon, but I know it isn't true. Derek isn't violent. He's sweet and gentle and he's never hurt anyone here in Ordon. If it were true he would act like a monster, but he _doesn't_. So whatever happened down in those dungeons, it wasn't that."

"I know he hasn't hurt anyone," Rusl said calmly, "which is why I haven't told anyone. If Derek is a monster then he's a kind one, and I'm perfectly happy with letting him live here in peace. Farore knows I've grown to like the boy." He stepped across the small room and laid a hand on Ilia's left shoulder. "But I want you to be aware of what he might be. Watch him for me, Ilia, he trusts you. And be careful."

"You're wrong," she informed him stubbornly. "You'll see that."

"How many times must I say it? I _want _to be wrong. I want to see for myself that I've been worrying over nothing. Besides, we won't have to wait much longer. As soon as Link wakes up he'll tell us himself."

The young shepherdess gave a small nod and murmured, "I should bring Uli that towel. She'll be wondering where I am."

"Go on, then. I'll see to Link's weapons and things while I'm here. Tell Uli I'll be stopping by later."

_He only worries so much because he has a family to look after, _Ilia thought to herself as she stepped outside and closed the door softly behind her. _Uli and the little ones._ She remembered what Uli had said to her, about Colin being so sickly when he was born, and working so hard without ever getting stronger. _Rusl and Uli both worry so much more than anyone would ever guess._

{oOo}

"It took you quite a while to get a towel," Uli said with a smile when Ilia reentered her little house. "You didn't get lost on the way to the line, did you?"

Ilia smiled back. "I was talking with Rusl. He says he'll be here later on." She got to her knees and helped Uli sop up what remained of the spilled tea, although most of it had dried by now and left a dark stain on the wooden floor.

"We'll put a nice rug over it," Uli told her dismissively. "I've been waiting for an excuse to buy one."

The two women cleaned, and talked casually to one another. Link lay silent and asleep on the couch made up for him at the back of the room, and curled up in the corner, Derek had gone back to drawing blissfully with his borrowed chalk.

{oOo}

Dark liked chalk. It was dry and powdery and strange, and it left a multitude of colors on his hands. Sky color, tree color, sun color... he'd never known that there were so many colors in the world. He wanted to learn about all of them. He wanted to know their names, and be able to look at a thing and think the color that it was.

The nice woman named Uli had taught him about chalk. She'd given him paper (Paper! Thin and pale and weightless and blank and whispery; he liked paper as well.) and he'd learned. He could make things with the chalk. Put it against the paper and move it around and it left a line of color, and Dark knew he had _created_ something. The thing that was him could change the outside world, and the things he did were important and had purpose and mattered. He wanted to do more things that would make his wonderful Ilia happy. He wanted to make her smile and never upset her. And he wanted to learn.

He thought that maybe he had been in the dark for a long time, although that might not have been real and it was hard to remember. He had been locked away for too long and he had forgotten everything, but he wanted to get all of that back. If he couldn't remember it then he would learn it anew.

Today he had learned that tea was painful and evil.

Maybe later he would ask Ilia about colors, and decide which one was his favorite.


	6. Predator

**Chapter Six**

**Predator**

"This," said Fado, pressing something sun-warm and metallic into Dark's hands, "Is a pair of blade shears. Be careful with 'em, because I'll never hear the end of it from Ilia if you hack yourself up."

"Blade shears," Dark repeated carefully.

Fado of Ordon was a tall man with a thick, muscular build; the kind that Dark might have found frightening had it not been for the man's gentle demeanor and innocent face. Fado was a few years older than Link, and the owner of Ordon's goat ranch. He walked with small, careful movements, like a man who knew exactly how large and strong he was. It was because of this, because he was so strong and yet at the same time so very effortlessly in control of himself, that Dark looked up to him. He couldn't quite bring himself to follow the older man around like he did with Ilia, but he was always shyly happy to see him. Maybe Fado realized this, because he quickly took a liking to Dark as well.

The two of them were seated in the shade of the barn, just off to one side of Ordon's wide, sunny goat-paddock, watching the shaggy blue animals graze lazily not far away. "No, here, hold 'em by the handles. Yeah, like that." Fado nodded approvingly as Dark shifted his grip. "We use these to shear our goats, a little later on in the season. Usually that's me an' Link's job, though everybody in Ordon helps out. We kind of make a festival out of it."

"A... festival?"

"Sure. There's food an' music, an' everything. You'll like it." Fado rose to his feet and brushed the stray bits of grass off his legs. "But for today... you wanted a job?"

{oOo}

Dark had not, in fact, wanted a job. But there had been an argument one night, and Dark, lying half asleep on his little mat in the corner of the house, had heard it. He hadn't understood what it meant, at the time. But he had heard it nonetheless.

The house was completely dark, except for the shafts of dim, silvery light falling though the windows. From upstairs in Ilia's room, muffled voices floated down through the rafters.

"Daddy, you're being unreasonable."

"It isn't as if he won't have a place to live. Fado's already agreed to-"

"But I want him to live here!"

"He can't stay here anymore, Ilia,. A few days was fine, but he's a teenage boy living under my roof, with you right in the upper room..."

"Why would you say that? Why do you think that about him? He's been nothing but nice to everyone all the time!"

"He's _sick_, Ilia. There's something wrong with his mind, and we don't know how bad it is or if it's going to get worse. It just isn't safe."

"Of course it's safe! He would never hurt me; he's like my brother!"

"Ilia, he's not even Hylian! We don't know what he is, but he's not your brother and he's certainly not my son!"

"Why should it matter if he's Hylain? You have Goron brothers! You shouldn't care about how people look!"

"It's not about how he looks. It's about what he is! He could be part Bublin for all we know, and I don't want you living in the same house as him."

"But Daddy-"

"No! First thing tomorrow he's moving in with Fado, and we're putting him to work in the goat field so that he's not always following you around."

"Daddy!"

"Goodnight, Ilia."

Somewhere above, a door was rather forcefully shut, and a moment later there was the sound of Bo's heavyset feet coming down the wooden stairs. Dark lay motionless on his sleeping mat and half-closed his eyes, so that he could peer out from a narrow slit between his eyelids. His heart was pounding strangely fast, and he didn't know why.

The dark shape that was Ilia's father swept by without looking at him, thinking, perhaps, that he was asleep. There was the subtle scrape of one of the old, faded pictographs that adorned the walls being taken down, and a low _thunk_ as its goathorn frame was set carefully on the wooden table that was the centerpiece of the main room. Bo sat down with a heartfelt sigh.

"I don't like arguing with her." The mayor wasn't talking to Dark, but when the shadow silently turned his head he could see the man's sillouette in the darkness, bent over the pictograph. "It's so much easier just to let her have her way. I was never good at much but spoiling her. You always knew how to tell her no."

He leaned back in his chair, the frame in his hands, and starlight from one of the windows fell across the pictograph. A woman remarkably like Ilia, if a bit older and more weathered, smiled kindly up from the smooth paper.

"I'm just trying to keep her safe. Does that make me a bad father?"

Whoever the person in the pictograph was, they didn't reply.

{oOo}

It was his first time watching the goats. Dark sat atop the fence in the sunny paddock and kept his eyes carefully trained to the flock grazing in the distance, while beside him Fado went on about the shearing festival, how the whole village aided in shepherding the goats through the center of Ordon and washing them in the Spirit Spring until their shaggy blue coats shone wet and clean and were ready to be cut. About Sera's sweetmeats and Jaggle parading around with his sword and shield, and the little paper doll chains made by Uli and given out by the handful to be worn in your hair or hung over the mantle of your house, and Hanch whistling songs to call down hawks, stroking their feathers until they became so docile that the children could pet them without fear of losing their fingers.

"And Daddy says he'll wrestle anyone in the village for the chance to win a fabulous prize," Ilia said with a laugh as she wandered up the wide dirt road behind them. "Can't forget _that_ tradition!" She giggled as a startled Dark overbalanced and fell backwards off the fence. "Sorry Derek, did I scare you?"

Lying on his back in the dirt, he grinned up at her as she leaned over him, dark against the sunny sky, and held out a hand to help him to his feet. "Il'ya!"

"I thought I'd stop by and wish you luck on your first day," she explained breezily, but Dark couldn't help but notice the wrongness in her eyes, the way they didn't match her tone of voice. Was she upset about something?

"I'll do a good job," he assured her, in case that was what she was worried about. "I know how the shears work now and I barely even got cut up at all learning to use them!" Fado made a small grunting sound beside him and hissed something that sounded like "don't tell her that," earning himself a chilly look from Ilia.

"Oh, really?"

"Yes, look!" Dark held out his left hand proudly to display the shallow cut on his palm. "I'm red inside, see! Everybody is; did you know that?"

"That's exciting, Derek," Ilia said, still glaring at Fado.

"I'll... go see how the goats are doing!" the goatherd volunteered quickly, cowering under Ilia's death glare. "They're nervous today; must be smellin' some wolves in the woods. I'd better, er..." He hurried off across the field, still mumbling excuses.

Ilia leaned her elbows against the fence and gazed out after him while Dark vaulted up to sit atop it again. "They do look agitated, don't they," the girl muttered, chin in her hands. "Like they smell a predator nearby. They were like this when the Bublins..." she trailed off quietly. "Hey Derek?"

He turned his eyes away from the goats and watched her curiously, waiting for her to speak.

"I'm... I'm sorry about Daddy making you go live with Fado."

"It's okay. Fado's nice."

"I know, but... It's not that he doesn't like you, you know? It's just that he doesn't really know what to think about you. And you shouldn't listen to what people in the village say or care about what they think because things have been really hard on all of us for a long time and it only just got better. None of it was your fault but... I guess people want someone to blame?" She sighed. "There must be a better way of saying that. I just don't know what it is."

"They think I am part Bublin?" Dark asked after a moment.

Ilia paled and bit her lip. "Oh, you heard that."

"It was loud."

A small, humorless laugh. "It was, wasn't it. I'm sorry."

He reached out and touched her face. "Your cheeks are wet, Il'ya."

And then she had her arms wrapped around him, and was pressing her face to his back. "I'm sorry. I'm just so worried about so many things and it isn't your fault. It was my fault and you had nothing to do with it and it wasn't you. I _know_ it wasn't you. He's going to be fine and it wasn't you." It was as if she was trying to convince herself of something.

Dark suspected he had lost track of the conversation at some point, and was content to let Ilia talk until he caught up again. He looked out again at the paddock, the goats bleating with unease as Fado wandered between them.

"Like goats," he said at last.

"What?"

"Goats smell the wolves in the woods and they get upset. And bad things happen and people get upset too. And they want someone to blame." He paused, nervously. "Um, is that right?"

Arms still around his torso, Ilia gave him a little squeeze. "That's absolutely perfect." She pulled away and wiped her eyes with a tiny smile. "Some days we just see wolves everywhere."

Fado was walking back now, and Dark straightened up and tried to look as attentive as possible as the goatherd reached the fence, teasing another faint laugh out of Ilia. Her smile died at the look on the older man's face.

"Ilia, get your father. There's something in the woods alright; the goats are going mad. We need to get the men together an' see if we can spot it, maybe drive it away from the village." He leapt the fence nimbly, not bothering to open the gate. "Could be that big blue-eyed wolf that kept breaking into houses a few months ago. Hope it's not, but it could be."

"I'll go find Daddy," the girl said with a nod.

"An' I'll get a few other people together." He turned to Dark. "Derek, can you keep an eye on things here for an hour or two? I know the goats are upset, but they shouldn't be too much of a hassle. Just give 'em a pat on the head if they get too worked up; they like that."

Dark commited the instructions to memory, echoing Fado religiously. "Keep an eye on things. Pat them on the head."

"And holler if you need any help. They'll hear you from the village." He grinned at the shadow. "You'll do fine."

And then Ilia and Fado were walking off down the road that led to Ordon village, and Dark was alone, perched lightly on the fence and watching the goats that had suddenly become his responsibility. _Watch the goats. Pat them on the head. Holler if I need help. I'll do fine._

He was going to do a good job, and work hard and prove to Ilia and Mayor Bo that he was no monster.

In the distance the goats milled fearfully, panicky at the overwhelming scent of_ predator _on the wind, and staying as far away as they possibly could from Dark.


	7. The Storm

**Chapter Seven**

**The Storm**

Alone in the goat paddock, Dark waited atop the fence, watching the goats mill about in agitation at the far end of the field. Though the summer air was hot, a chill breeze began to blow, stirring his hair and whistling mournfully through the scattered clumps of horse grass. Slowly, the shadows of clouds passed across the sun, sending large islands of darkness racing over the grass and making the shrinking shafts of golden sunlight glitter eerily as they vanished, one by one. And then, in a matter of minutes, the sky was bruise-colored, and the air was cool.

Dark stared upward curiously. He'd seen clouds before; towering white and pillowy in the distance above the trees of Ordon, but this was new, this low, dark blanket covering the sky and making the air seem heavy and every sound strangely muffled. It looked so heavy and hanging that Dark wondered, suddenly, if he could reach out and touch it, wondered what it would feel like against his fingers. He reached up a hand and strained his fingers toward the sky, and when they closed on nothing but air he stood up and balanced precariously atop the fence, wavering dangerously as he stood on tiptoe and stretched his arms upward until his shoulders and elbows ached.

A few more inches, he reasoned, and he seized the blade shears that had been hanging loosely at his belt and stabbed them towards the clouds.

A booming _CRACK_ shattered the sky. Fire seared against the inside of Dark's eyelids, and he screamed in panic as the sound ripped through him, deep and rolling and terrifyingly unknown, burying his voice in its reverberating echoes.

He fell from the fence, and in a shining silver arc the blade shears flew from his fingers and flipped through the air. Dark hit the ground hard. The shears landed with a _thunk_, blade down in the grass next to his head, leaving a line of sharp pain from cheekbone to ear that quickly turned hot and wet. Dark turned his head slowly, stunned, and watched the red inside of him drip against the dirt.

_I wasn't supposed to cut myself up... Ilia will be so unhappy..._

Something icy splashed against his burning face.

Sprawled out on the grass just inside the goat field, Dark hastily looked back toward the sky. With a tiny _plip_, another drop of water landed against his skin, and then another, and then a thousand of them, gushing down from the iron clouds. They soaked into his clothes and pooled blurrily in the hollows of his face, turning pinkish where they streamed past his cheek.

He scrambled to his feet as the rain poured around him, now icy cold and plastered with mud. Water from the sky. Was it supposed to do that? Was it meant to pour from the clouds or had something broken, far up in the sky, when he'd heard that crash?

Another _CRACK_, another flash of scalding light that threw the goat field into sharp lines of shadow. Panicking, heart pounding hard and fast against his ribs, Dark threw himself against a fence-post and gripped it, taking gasping breaths as he tried to blink away the purple afterimages left against his eyes. His face stung, and there was a familiar aching forming behind his eyes, a swirling red _something_ rising like fog in the back of his skull.

He swallowed painfully and closed his eyes tight, pressed his hands to his ears, forcing it back. It was only a sound and a light. It only hurt for a second, like hot tea. _Holler if you need help,_ he remembered, but...

_You have to watch the goats. You're no monster, you can do it by yourself. You promised you'd watch them; you said you'd do a good job. Can't you hear them?_

Trembling, he opened his eyes and pulled his hands away, and he could hear the goats bleating in blind, animalistic panic all around him, driven into a frenzy by the storm. He wasn't sure what to do; he knew nothing about animals, but it occurred to him that they were just as frightened and cold as he was.

They had stalls in the barn on the edge of the paddock, didn't they? Warm, dry, and full of sweet smelling hay, and with a roof overhead to keep out the rain and the thunder. With sudden determination, Dark picked up the blade shears (can't lose them, they're Fado's) and sprinted across the goatfield, headed toward the dark silhouette of the barn looming faintly through the downpour. He winced as the thunder rumbled again overhead. His numb, waterslick fingers found the edge of the great wooden doors, and he pulled as hard as he could and felt the grating resistance of it as it swung open, dragging through the mud.

The animals didn't run inside like he'd expected them to; they weren't smart enough. Dark darted off into the rain again, and the goats shied away at his approach. This close to them, he could see how big they were; their massive circular horns reaching as high as his shoulders and their muscular shoulderblades thick and strong beneath the bulk of their wool. Their wide black eyes rolled back in terror. Here was the evil thing, the monster, the thing that smelled of predator, and they danced away skittishly as Dark chased them, slipping and sliding across the slick, muddy grass.

"Come on, you have to go inside!" He chased one into a corner of the field, and tentatively he reached out to to it, cringing as it bared square white teeth at him. _Pat them on the head. They like that. Just pat them on the head._ "Don't be afraid..."

His fingertips shook, inching toward the creature's head, and then-

Something hard and solid and heavy pounded into him from the side, and Dark went flying and landed with a wet _smack_ on his back in the grass. Pain shot up his spine, and he got his first harsh, metallic taste of blood. The red mist swirled in the corners of his vision.

Breathing hard and fast, he rolled over onto his side and saw one of the goats, a massive male with huge, rock-solid horns, glaring at him from a few feet away. It lowered its head for another charge, grunting with protective determination, challenging him, daring him to come near the rest of the herd. A flash of lighting made a million drops of water burn white against Dark's eyes as it leapt towards him.

He barely registered sitting up before the thing struck him and he was thrown to the ground again. His ribs burned where its horns had collided with his side, and his face stung and his head hurt; oh how it hurt, more than anything else in the world. His hand tightened on the handles of the blade shears, burning cold against his skin. He couldn't even feel the rain anymore, and the red mist was filling his vision and his head was pounding and the world f_l_i_c_k_e_r_e_d _s_i_l_v_e_r he had to make it _s_t_o_p, it had to s_t_o_p_ h_u_r_t_i_n_g, please make it stop, had to stop it had to stop the pain had to _kill..._

{oOo}

It was Ilia who spotted the search party first, emerging at last from the trees on the edge of the village. She'd been sitting on Rusl and Uli's porch, sheltered from the rain by the overhanging roof and with her back to the door, as if a young girl's presence might somehow keep the blue-eyed wolf away from the room where Link was sleeping. They were sopping wet; Bo, Rusl, Fado, Hance, and Jaggle, each clutching a sword or sturdy branch or slingshot, but with slightly relaxed grips that told her they hadn't needed to use them.

She darted out into the rain as soon as she saw them, and wrapped her arms around Bo in a quick hug. The icy deluge showered around them. "Did you find anything?"

Bo shook his head and wrapped one thick arm around her shoulders to shield her from the weather as they walked back into town. "No wolves in the woods today."

"I was sure those goats were smelling something," Fado murmured, scratching his chin and looking slightly puzzled.

"Storm might've scared it off, whatever it was," suggested Jaggle. "Good for the pumpkins, anyway."

Hanch rubbed his forearms nervously, working some warmth back into them. "We haven't seen that big wolf in a while... right? It probably decided to leave us alone. It's not coming back. I'm sure it's not coming back." He shot a quick, questioning glance at Bo.

"At least the goats-" Rusl began, and Fado made a small startled noise.

"Oh, Farore's Wind, the goats! I left Derek to watch 'em and I didn't tell him a thing about roundin' 'em up in the barn! He's probably been sittin' out in the rain with 'em this whole time!" He slapped his forehead. "You can all go get dried off, I'll be right back, soon as I take care of that."

Ilia twisted nimbly out from under Mayor Bo's arm as Fado began setting off toward the goat field. "I'll come with you!"

"Ilia, come inside and get dried off! Don't go running off after De-" a crack of thunder drowned him out, and Ilia pretended she hadn't heard, glancing back to smile and wave at the bedraggled men before she and Fado were lost from sight in the downpour.

{oOo}

She caught up with Fado at the edge of the goat paddock, just as he was dragging the heavy wooden gate open. He gave her a look as she passed, as if he knew she wasn't really supposed to be there, but didn't stop her. Ilia and Derek were all too well known to be inseparable by now.

Ilia walked out into the open paddock. Gradually, the rain was letting up, turning from a shower to a spatter, and the fine mist of cold rain on warm soil drifted around her. Her feet squelched wetly against mud and flattened grass.

"Derek? You haven't been out here in the rain all this time, have you?" she called out, turing her head this way and that and trying to spot him through the mist and drizzle. The goats milled around her with limp hanging fur, dripping and giving little snorts of indignity. "Did you... did you go inside?"

The barn door was ajar, but peeking inside she saw only warm darkness and empty stalls. "Fado, you should have told him he didn't have to stay outside if it rained!"

"Hey now, I didn't know it was goin' to rain!" Fado called out defensively from farther out across the field. "Did you know it would rain? I didn't know it would rain. I feel bad about just leavin' him out in it, though..."

With a small shrug, Ilia shut and latched the barn door. "He didn't go back to the village. I would have seen."

She began walking out across the field again to join Fado, and saw him make a strangled, retching noise, hunching over slightly, hands clasped to his face.

"Fado?"

"Don't-" He turned around, eyes wide and voice shaking. "Ilia, get back, don't come over here-"

But she'd already started running, arriving at his side before he could even finish the sentence. "Oh," she whispered.

The sprinkling rain pattered around them, and made little ripples in the fresh red slick of watered down blood soaking slowly into the grass at their feet. There was quite a lot of it.

A few feet away, a large, still bulk of blue fur was lying on its side in the mud. Something had very carefully and cleanly sliced most of it into ribbons.

Ilia gagged and backed hurriedly away.

Fado made another choked noise, sounding as if he might be sick. "It... the wolf _is_ back, it killed... It killed my goat! That thing killed one of my goats!" He gave Ilia a look of panic. "It's never actually killed anything, it just... it's always just wandered around before!"

Ilia's heart was hammering in her chest. Her mouth working soundlessly, trying to find words, her eyes following the trail of blood that led away towards the edge of the field, briefly staining the fence in blotches before disappearing into the woods beyond.

"What do I do?" Fado was stammering. "Wolves aren't supposed to do that, they're not that bold, right? It just-"

"Derek!" she managed, the word sounding shrill and hysterical in her ears. "He was watching the goats! We just _left _him here to watch the goats!"

And before Fado could stop her, she was racing off, vaulting the bloodied fence and vanishing into the darkness beneath the dripping trees.


End file.
